𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐨.

Blood. Cooper felt blood on his tongue. He dug and snagged his teeth into the soft flesh of Travis's neck, tracing along his large intestine whilst mingling his fingers into the blood choked up from his veins.

He'll clean up, Cooper always cleans up when he's done. He'll stitch Travis up and mop away the blood, moving past the severed limbs of his other friends. He can't lose Travis, someone who's blood taste so sweet, and flesh so soft and pudgy.

He looks miserable, disgustingly covered in dried blood and saliva, tied down onto a kitchen chair Cooper dragged down; after he had decided Carson couldn't be left alone to wander. Cooper laughs at the idea of Travis deserving this, he laughs at the idea of the Gods condemning him to suffer for the crimes he had not committed. It's all quite entertaining really.

Cooper actually really liked Travis, he liked his smile and his eyes, his small utters and coos of the stupidly cute nickname he had given Cooper. Everything about Travis is friendly, sweetly picked attributes pressed into one being - making him important, making someone perfect. All for Cooper to cut him down, skinning his limbs and tearing at his flesh with sharpened teeth.

Yet, there's something that Cooper loves more, something he loves more than just the taste of Travis's AB-negative blood type. It's the screams, the loud horrific screams that Travis chokes out as Cooper sinks his canines into his pure pale skin. They're drawn out and pitchy, disgustingly high shrieks that meet Cooper's ears pleasantly.

He can't stop, now now, nor ever. Cooper can't stop now, not after he's tasted the flesh that covers Travis's frail bones, not when he's yet to pop so many other veins, when he's yet to pull and grind the skin and muscle from Travis's thighs. Cooper is addicted, wholeheartedly so. He can't stop now, not when Travis is so precious, so rare. Travis is so beautiful.

Cooper didn't want this, he didn't want to hurt Travis. His heart slows, just that little bit when he stares at the bloody spill of intestines that slip from Travis's stomach. The voices in his head warned him, they screamed at him once he tore Carson apart, and warned him of touching Travis. Yet, here he stands, watching at blood trickles out of his body.

Cooper needs to fix him. His eyes burn as he continuously stares, the voices scream louder as Travis whimpers, edging along his last breathes of life. Yet, Cooper can't let him go so easily, he can't have this be the end.

He'll stitch him up, pull and tie his skin together with a needle and thread - so when the morning comes, he can restart the same process. He hopes to have this continue forever, to listen to the same screams, and slowly but surely watch as the skin regenerates once more; so he could tear at it again.

Travis looks gone, eyes glazed over with excruciating pain and misery. Travis wants to die, Cooper's aware of that much. Cooper can see it in his eyes, in the way his breath saunters ever so slightly before it's whisked away by his silent wish for death. He can listen to Travis's small whimpers and pleas, and within them, he hears horror - bone-chilling screeches layered in anguish.

But Cooper won't let go, not yet. Instead, his hands quickly work towards stitching up his wounds, once more pushing his organs into their proper place, before locking them away for tomorrow's feast.

Travis is a gift to be treasured, a gift Cooper will gladly tear apart until there is no more skin nor scabs to pick, until his flesh refuses to grow back in place, until his blood leaks far too much on the cold concrete floor of their basement. He will treasure Travis until he's dead, until Cooper can no longer stand the taste of his blood and his final breath becomes weak and dreary.

❝𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞...𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞.❞

"You're so beautiful, Travis. You're so fucking beautiful."